


Could it be More?

by StoneColdWriter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bad French, Biting, Blood, Cliche, F/M, Fingerfucking, Français | French, Healing, Hot Sex, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Injury, Kissing, Naked Male Clothed Female, Nursing, Overwatch - Freeform, Overwatch Agent Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Sexy, Sexy Times, Shower Sex, Talon Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Team Talon (Overwatch), Vaginal Fingering, vagina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 14:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14239023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoneColdWriter/pseuds/StoneColdWriter
Summary: Reaper gets injured and looks to Widowmaker for help.





	Could it be More?

**Author's Note:**

> Yes hello, I used google translate.  
> Vous merde: you shit  
> Merde: Shit  
> Je Sui désolé: I am sorry  
> Viens avec moi: come with me  
> Non: No

Every other night, Reaper would barge into Widowmaker’s private quarters, swearing under his breath with that deep, raspy voice. Reaper wasn’t exactly the “sit down and talk” type of guy. He was more like “shut up and let me fuck you into next week.” Sometimes Widowmaker was in the mood and sometimes she felt like she could take out an entire squad of Overwatch’s top fighters. Despite her mood, she always ended up on her back legs open, or on her knees with her ass up in the air. Of course she would tell the wraith-like man no and try to force him out the door. But despite her efforts, she always ended up naked in the bed with a man, who was neither live nor dead, fucking her. It’s not like she hated every moment of it. Talon headquarters would become empty and quiet when they had decided to hold on missions or there wasn’t anyone who needed to be assassinated. Widowmaker would admit, she did play hard to get or pretend that she wasn’t interested just so that Reaper could get a little rough with her. During the dormant hours of Talon, Widowmaker needed something to get her cold heart beating. 

This night was no different from the others. It was almost midnight and Widowmaker had stayed up, reading some book that she knew she wasn’t going to finish. In the back of her mind, she was making bets on whether or not Reaper would come barging into her room with a steady blood flow to his crotch. She would tell herself that she wouldn’t care if Reaper came to visit her, but deep down, she wanted something stimulating, not just this book that would eventually collect dust. But maybe it wasn’t just for being stimulated, maybe for something a little more?

With a frustrated sigh, she closed the book and threw it across the room. She rubbed her eyes, debating if she should just call it a night, feeling a little disappointed that there was no visit from the man that could irritate her so much. Deciding that it was best to just sleep the boredom away, there was a pounding at her door. She jumped off her bed a little too fast. She waited a couple of seconds before opening the door, not wanting to seem desperate.

Make him wait, she said to herself, standing in front of the door, finger hovering above the control panel. The longer I make him wait, the angrier he gets, the rougher he is in bed.  
It wasn’t until there was a second knock, weaker than the first, on the door that she pressed her hand against the control panel. The door slid open and she had expected to see the hooded figure, tense with rage, but what she saw was unexpected. 

Reaper was leaning against the wall, thick dark smoke rising from his body. It seemed like Reaper was putting every ounce of energy he had into not completely collapsing into smoke. He held his side, dark blood dripping through his fingers and creating a thick puddle on the floor. His breath was shallow and raspy. Coughed up blood was collecting on the bottom of his skeleton mask, dripping down onto his uniform. 

“A-Amélie…” he began. There was so much pain in his voice. Widowmaker felt a pinch in her stomach as Reaper collapsed onto Widowmaker’s chest trying to take a step into the room.

“Merde, Gabe!” She rarely used his real name, they rarely used each other’s real name. On missions it was always their codenames or vulgar names in their foreign tongue. 

Widowmaker could feel the warm liquid start to stain her pajamas as she struggled to keep the injured man in her arms. He was so much larger than her that it took all the strength she could muster to drag him to her bed. The blood was going to stain her white sheets, but that was the least of her problems. Reaper grunted in pain, moving his clawed hand to his side. There was still a considerable amount of blood spilling from his side. His breath was shallow and filled with pain.

“Gabe, vouse merde, what happened?” Widowmaker ran to her bathroom, grabbing a stack of towels. She had to put pressure on the wound. She put the towels aside on the bed and started to take off Reaper’s uniform. “Why did you come here? I am no support, I know nothing of healing.” She panicked.

Widow took off his under armor revealing decaying pale skin, smoke emanating from his skin giving the illusion of a ghostly apparition. Widow’s eyes had a hard time focusing on his body as it struggled to materialize and maintain the form of a living man. 

“Didn’t…. want…..to go to……med bay…..” he grumbled, wincing as Widowmaker applied a towel to the side of his wound. Widow’s hand sank through a layer of smoke before hitting something solid, causing Reaper to scream out in pain. Was that his rib cage? He was literally decaying in front of her eyes. 

Widow looked up to his mask, trying to think of what to do next to ease the pain. 

“Take this…damn….mask off…” Reaper growled. 

Widow hesitated before taking a steady hand and lifting the mask. Many would retreat in fear at the sight of his face, but not her. Reaper’s face was just as pale, with smoke licking his face. Red eyes squinting in pain. Parts of his skin looked as if it was torn off to reveal the demon-like skull. Thick streams of dark blood were running down the parts of his face that looked somewhat solid.  
“The only thing I can do is bandage your wounds and give you painkillers,” Widowmaker couldn’t help but stare at Reaper’s face, as it moved in and out of focus from all the smoke rising from his body. 

“That’s fine… my body can repair itself from there.”

Widow had forgotten that he could regenerate health over a certain amount of time. It put her mind at ease knowing that Reaper could make a strong recovery. Widowmaker grabbed a pillow and lifted Reaper’s head. She remembered that the bathroom had a first aid kit in the bathroom. Grabbing the box she set aside next to reapers ghostly body. 

Widow ripped open a small pack of cleansing wipes. “This might sting,” she warned, gently applying the disinfectants to whatever open gash on solid skin she could find. Reaper cried out a gut wrenching scream, shouting out every vulgar word he knew. 

“Je suis désolé.” She said softly under her breath. 

She grabbed a role of medical gauze, cutting off sections for the appropriate size to cover the wounds, taping down the edges with medical tape. The smoke curled gracefully around her fingers as she applied pressure to tape down the bandages. She noticed Reaper’s body slightly relax, Widowmaker could only imagine the pain that he was in. Widow couldn’t help but stare at Reaper’s defined muscles beneath the layer of smoke. 

“Are you just going to stare or are you going to give me some painkillers,” Reaper smirked, revealing demon-like teeth.

Widow blinked. That was the Reaper she knew, always giving snarky responses. With a small grin, she dug around in the first aid kit finding a bottle of aspirin. “Let me get you a glass of water,” caressing his cheek. She walked to the bathroom looking up at herself in the mirror. She was covered with Reaper’s dark red blood. She scrubbed her hands, making sure to get underneath her nails, watching the blood turn the water a red hue. She filled a glass of water from the sink and walked back into the bedroom.

Reaper had propped himself up against the headboard. His eyes closed and his chest slowing rising with each breath. 

“Here, take this,” she said softly, handing Reaper several pills from the bottle with the glass of water.

“What? You expect me to do this by myself?” Reaper sneered, eyes slightly open.  
With a deep breath, Widow sat on the edge of the bed and leaned closer to Reaper’s disfigured face. She placed her slender fingers above his lips. Reaper opened his mouth, allowing Widow to drop the pills onto his tongue. She placed the rim of the glass up to his lips, slowly pouring water into his mouth. Widow tried to avoid the man’s eyes, but she could feel them on her, almost violating her. 

Reaper drank the rest of the water in the glass and let out an exhausted sigh. He raised a scarred hand up to Widow’s chin, lifting her head so that their eyes could meet. Widow leaned in closer, feeling his breath on her face. 

This is so cliché, she thought. But she didn’t resist, she let Reaper’s hand guide her lips to his. Dropping the glass on the floor, she grabbed his face, kissing him passionately. He ran his hands through her silk hair. Widow could feel his muscles tense as his bare skin met her blood stained pajamas. How sexy, she sarcastically said to herself. With her pale slender fingers, she began to remove the top of her pajamas, exposing her breast. Are they really doing this? With blood on the sheets and Reaper covered in bandages? But like Reaper said, his body heals fast. 

Reaper pulled her body closer to his bare chest, slightly wincing from the pressure her body put on his wounds. 

“We don’t have to do this,” Widow breathed heavily between kisses. 

Reaper let out a low, weak chuckle. “You already got me in the mood.” Thicker streams of smoke raised from his body.

Widow retreated her lips away from Reaper, with a small grin stretching across her lips. “Viens avec moi,” she purred, grabbing a clawed, disfigured hand and standing up from the bed. 

“I have no idea what the fuck you just said,” Reaper said, submitting to Widow’s lead into the bathroom.

She merely chuckled, bending down and removing her pajama shorts. There was no hesitation from Reaper as he began to frisk her firm ass.

“Non!” she tisked slabbing his hands away. Widow smirked as Reaper’s brow furrowed in slight annoyance. “Strip,” was all she said, referring to his underwear. Widow slid the glass door open to the shower and stepped inside, turning on the water, not even waiting for the water to heat up. Her long hair stuck to her bare chest and back as the cold water streamed down her elegant curves. She beckoned Reaper to join her in the shower. 

After a few moments of hesitation, and waiting for the water to warm up, he walked into the shower. Reaper stood in front of Widow, gazing into her golden eyes. Once again, their lips collided, water running down their naked bodies. Widow guided Reaper’s hand down to her vulva. She wanted this, she was taking the lead this time. Her body was so easily manipulated by Reaper’s, but this time she would be the master pulling the strings, guiding Reaper to her pleasure. 

“Gently,” she said with her silky voice, knowing full well that Reaper was unfamiliar with the word. To her surprise, he followed her lead. Letting her take his hand and slowly stroke her inner thighs before making his way closer up. Hovering a finger over her clit. Widow let out a shaky breath, encouraging Reaper to develop a rhythm. He began rubbing his finger against her lips back and forth. Reaper had now focused his mouth on Widow’s neck, gently kissing the vulnerable skin. Widow’s breathing became louder, as she moved her body close to him as humanly possible. Reaper increased the pressure, now completely focusing on her clit. Widow breathlessly clawed Reapers back. She hungered for more. 

“Don’t stop,” she moaned as Reaper nipped at the lobe of her ear. 

He sped up the rhythm, passion flowing through them. Reaper slipped a finger inside her vagina starting a whole new rhythm within her body. He began slipping his fingers in and out and then moving back to her clit. It became a symphony. 

Widowmaker began to breathe faster, her body tensing, moaning louder. “Am I going to have to say harder in English for your American ears?” she sneered.

And with that remark, all fingers were centered on her clit. Widow dug her nails into Reaper’s back, gasping for air. Reaper bit down hard on her ear, drawing blood. However she felt no pain, only the symphony becoming an overwhelming sensation. Her tense muscles now relaxed, as if dissolving into pleasure. She felt like she could melt into Reaper’s arm, becoming one with the smoke that rises from his body. For a moment, it felt like they were one, completely in harmony as the symphony came to end. No words, just the sound of the water hitting their body.

What now? This was the first time they had engaged in this affectionate way. In the past it has always been mindless, raging sex with no strings attached. Would this moment they shared be added to that category? Or maybe she was just thinking that because she had guided him to her pleasure. But he was the one who came to her. He came to her when he was hurt, vulnerable. There had to be more to this. 

Widow was lost in her thoughts as Reaper turned off the water. Without saying a word he stepped out of the shower. He began to peel off the bandages that Widow had placed over his wounds. “Looks like you’re out of clean towels,” Reaper chuckled. No surprise, the wounds were already healed. “And in need of some clean sheets.” 

Widow followed him out of the shower, not looking up to meet his eyes. He was right, she would need new sheets, no point in trying to save these ones. She would have to call in for new sheets in the morning. One of the downsides to living on Talon base was exactly that, having to call in for room service like in a hotel, there was little sense of independence. She started her way out of the bathroom, set on putting some clothes on. But before she could leave the bathroom, Reaper blocked the doorway with his heavily muscled body. 

“You’re in luck because I happen to have a clean set,” he smirked, lifting Widow’s chin so that her golden eyes would meet his. She felt a tug at the corner of her, her spirits lifting as he placed a gentle, tender kiss on her forehead. Without another word, Reaper lead Widow out into the hallway stark naked. The both of them trying to contain their childish giggles as they ran to Reaper’s room. Leaving nothing but a trail of water. They could almost hear the feint sound of a body slipping and landing hard on the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
